And He Will Be The One To Destroy You
by Princess Alyra
Summary: Because in the end, it isn't magic that has corrupted you. It's him.


**And He Will Be The One To Destroy You**

Summary: Because in the end, it isn't magic that has corrupted you. It's _him. _

Disclaimer: _Merlin _is not mine, nor do I profit from any of the material I borrow from the show.

_AN: My first Merlin fanfic, but certainly not my last._

- - -

You can't remember the last time you were alone. _Truly _alone. He has permitted you to wander off physically unaccompanied, but you're no fool; you can sense him in your mind, watching your every move, listening to everything that goes on in and around you.

Today he has seemingly given you a much needed break. There is no presence flitting about the edges of your consciousness. The worst part is that _this _is now the alien feeling. It should be the other way around. His _presence, _not the lack of it, should feel strange.

The horse beneath you is not going near fast enough to your liking. Nothing can go as fast as you want it to. You have a desire to go above and beyond nature; he has made you this way, you think. He is the reason you desire things that most people would never even consider.

You're not sure where you're going. You just want to get away_. _Somewhere even he can't reach you. But that, like your want for impossible speed, simply goes against the natural order of things. There _is _nothing out of his reach. He sees, hears, and knows everything. Especially when it comes to you.

There is nothing you would not do for him, but there is little that you feel completely _right _doing for him, either. Somehow, anything that involves him is in some way tainted by his twisted heart. But he needs you. You cannot let him down.

Some days, you sit staring into space, wondering just how you became so weak. You remember with some difficulty how you used to be a pillar of strength for your friends, full of undying loyalty and ready to do what you thought to be right. This? This wasn't right. Right was dozens of enchantments and a few choices ago.

Your horse, almost of its own accord, slows to a trot and finally a halt on the outskirts of a vaguely familiar village. You rub his main absentmindedly, enjoying the sounds of his soft whinnying. _He _gave him to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that the horse was not a prize won out of fair payment.

Most of your possessions are gifts from him, which in turn were stolen from a variety of innocent people, many of whom you suspect did not survive the thievery. You never confront him about it, though; it would serve no use. He will not change anything for you.

Suddenly you realize why this village is so familiar. It is Ealdor. Merlin's home. You have been here before… That was an example of the woman you used to be. You did what you knew you had to do in order to help your friend. When did that stop? It wasn't when you met _him_, as simple an answer as that would be. You were helping a friend then, too.

A small sigh escapes your lips as memories of your time spent in Ealdor come flooding back. You, Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen, fighting side by side, as it should be. As it still could be if not for your foolish actions. You wish… but it can never be. Never again will you be able to return to Camelot, your former home, and settle into the life you used to live. Even if Uther were to die, you've done too much. At the very least, Merlin knows what you have done and who you associate with, and Gaius can guess what you are capable of. The question is whether they've told everyone else.

Deep in your heart, you know that they haven't. Merlin would never betray your secret, no matter how terrible. If he would, then surely he would have turned you in before poisoning you himself? The moment you realized what he'd done is burned in your memory forever. _He_, along with your sister, has gone out of his way to convince you that this betrayal should be enough to make you loathe him beyond words, but you have never felt that way, except for a few fleeting moments while you gasped for breath, the poison constricting your lung capacity and choking you. Then you saw the look in his eyes and felt the way he wrapped his arms around you. Sometimes, you only wish the poison had succeeded in killing you.

If Uther could see you now, he would curse the very essence of magic for twisting his precious ward beyond his selective sight's recognition. And you would raise your chin defiantly and tell him that he is wrong to hate magic. Despite everything, you still refuse to believe that your powers themselves are evil.

Because in the end, it isn't magic that has corrupted you.

_Morgana._

It's _him._

_Return to us, Morgana._

And with the comfort of his macabre mind touching yours, you obey, because that's the kind of person you have become.


End file.
